“How will we find water?”
Zeynel didn’t look away from one of the branches they’d gathered for firewood. “Look for it.”
“But where and how do we get it?” Sara insisted. “Do we need permission?”
“Permission? From whom? The water?”
“No, from the water gods! Yes, the people!” She took deep breath, and then for good measure another. Zeynel tried her patience to its limit. “Didn’t you say there were people out in that desert?”
“People, yes, precisely.” Zeynel’s eyes narrowed then shot open. “Aha, there you are.” He turned to Sara. “I knew there was something in this branch. It only took time and patience.” He glanced at Sara. “A trait you could learn.” Zeynel pulled a dark metal knife from his boot, its hilt wrapped in strips of leather, and began slow strokes against the rough bark. He rotated it several times, paused and continued to whittle the stick down. “People live here, yes. And there is water. I suppose they have more claim to it than anyone, but they’ve never begrudged travelers. There are several wells between here and the mountains to the east. When traders pass this way, the People set up trading posts near the wells to sell or barter their goods.”
Sara smiled and relaxed against the tree. “So water is not a problem.”
“Oh, it’s a problem.”
“What?” She sat up, narrowly missing the branch above her head.
“The wells are roughly two or three days’ journey from one another, some more, some less.”
“And?”
He held the stick up to the light. “A day or two by horse. We are walking.”
Sara rubbed her eyebrows in a vain attempt to ward off a headache. She stared across the wastelands, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun sunk below the horizon. She turned back to Zeynel. “What are you doing?”
He remained silent while he finished carving a spiral gouge into the stick. To Sara, it resembled a snake curled around the branch. “What do you mean?”
“What is that you’re working on?”
One of Zeynel’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought you were worried about water.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No, not with the zoari.”
“Is that was that is?”
“Yes.”
She searched her memory. She’d heard that word before. “A divining stick? Does it work?”
Zeynel shrugged. “For some.” He looked up and grinned. “For me. Perhaps Teann led me to you when it did so you could cross the Faisach alive.” His blue eyes sparkled.
The first stars flickered to life in the eastern sky. The days were still warm, but the nights had turned chilly. Sara took in the expanse before her. How long would it take to cross? A moon, two? Three? She’d hate an early-winter storm to find them on the open plain.
Sara watched Zeynel continue to carve runes into the now smooth sides of the stick. “When Maelys spoke of Teann, it was as though she referred to a force—something impersonal. You speak of it as though it were a part of nature. Something you could commune with.”
“A force, a part of nature, yes. Teann is a language, but not one of words. It speaks as the wind through the trees, water over stones. You will feel it in your bones, know it from the depth of your being. It will guide you and bring light where there is none.”
“When I meditate, I feel a part of something but that something doesn’t speak to me. I mean, I can’t tell if it’s saying anything. There is no guidance. I don’t think I understand its language.”
Zeynel’s eyes caught the flame from the fire. “You must quiet your own thoughts and Teann will become a part of you, like breathing, almost without any effort.”
“All I have to do to learn Teann is quiet my thoughts?”
“That you think it will be easy is your first obstacle.” He reached for her hand. “Using the stone will flow from you as your thoughts. As the blood flows in your veins. But first, I must teach you to listen.”
* * *
Bredych paced the narrow enclosure, cursing the ever-present wind. Cridell had sent word that his task was completed. Randver’s head decorated his village’s square. The news brought him no satisfaction. He hated unknowns. He hadn’t been able to sense the stone since the first winter storms. Since long before arriving at this forsaken wasteland. Where is she? Closing his eyes, he took deep breaths. Perhaps he’d underestimated the young keeper. She’d managed to shield the stone from his eyes. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Could she be dead? It was possible, but his instincts told him otherwise, and he’d learned to obey his instincts.
He’d worked too hard, too long to leave this part of the plan to chance. Layer upon layer, piece by piece he was building his kingdom. The foundation he laid here in these forsaken lands would not be used for many seasons but it was the trap that would assure his ultimate victory. He smiled in anticipation.
He could send out more men to find the girl, but why? Eventually, she’d come to him.
* * *
Shielding her eyes from the glare, Sara gazed to the horizon. The sun perched high in the sky. Closer now, dark forms rippled in the afternoon warmth. Friend or foe? She glanced at Zeynel. He seemed relaxed, but that didn’t mean anything. They’d entered the Faisach without ceremony, leaving the last tree behind several days before. Now, pale yellow earth stretched to the horizon, sometimes rising closer to the sun in golden ripples, or sinking into hollows where foliage grew in defiance of the sun, creating a miniature sunken oasis. Hazy shapes in the distance might well be the mountains that were their destination.
Zeynel’s zoari proved useful and, so far, they’d not been without a full water skin for long, even between wells.
Pale yellow grasses crackled and broke beneath her feet as she watched several horses head in their direction. Adrenaline surged into her limbs. There was no shelter on the flat terrain, nowhere to hide. Besides, the riders probably knew every grain of sand in the desert. Sara shrugged the pack off her shoulders and climbed a slight rise. She loosened her sword in its scabbard for easy access. Zeynel followed, stopping a pace away, his staff ready. Fighting room. He’s not taking any chances. Respect for her companion increased. She was sure she and Zeynel could take on half a dozen foes.
Hooves pounded against the plain and the outlines of the riders grew distinctive—robed figures, their faces indistinguishable in the sun’s glare.
The leader reined his horse just shy of the incline. He touched his eyebrow and bowed his head. “Strangers. Who are you to travel alone in the Faisach?” His voice held strength, leadership, and demanded an answer. Dark eyebrows slashed over commanding black eyes with incredibly thick lashes. He had to be the most attractive man she’d ever seen.
“My name is Sara and this is my companion, Zeynel. We travel east.” She tensed, alert for any movement.
His eyes widened for a moment, a brief look of surprise touching his dusky features. “I’m Tobar, Akier of the Heleini.” He exchanged glances with his men. “What takes you across the Faisach so late in the season?” Suspicion edged his voice.
Sara fought the urge to reach for her sword. She shrugged, keeping her voice even. “Our purpose is peaceful and our own.”
Low murmurs sounded from the others in the group. A horse sidestepped, whickering and shaking its head as though attempting to dispel the tension in the air.
Zeynel stepped forward. “My companion is a healer. We were delayed in the western lands and seek to cross the Faisach before the winter storms arrive.”
Tobar narrowed his eyes, staring at Sara. “A healer?”
“Yes.”
He stared at her sword’s pommel, visible over her left shoulder. “One who wields a sword?”
“Would you travel these lands without a way to defend yourself?”
Tobar glanced fr
om her to Zeynel then to his men. His shoulders relaxed a fraction. Tension drained from Sara’s body.
“Healer, my apologies for our welcome. We have been searching for a small boy on the Faisach since the sun crested the mountains in the east.” He rubbed his forehead. “I do not think he’s gone this far but I wouldn’t underestimate the child.”
Sara blinked. A small boy? How would a small boy survive out here for even a few hours? “We have seen no one but you for several days.”
Tobar nodded and turned as though to leave.
“But we will help you look for him.”
He wheeled around. “Why?” The suspicion was back in his voice.
“Why not? A small boy, out here? It’s not safe.”
Tobar hesitated. “The search is not without risk. Although only his tracks left our circle of tents, he may not be alone.” Anxiety shone on his face before he masked the emotion. “He is well loved and important to my people,” Tobar continued.
How could she not help him? “I’ll accept the risk.”
“Then I will accept your offer.” He motioned and one of the riders led a riderless horse forward.
“He was on foot?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then I’d rather be on foot as well.” She didn’t want to tell the man she’d never ridden a horse. Somehow she knew she’d lose credibility in his eyes.
“Very well. I have other parties searching. Build a fire if you find him.” He paused. “You do know how to make a fire that creates a lot of smoke?”
Who did this man think he was? “Yes, I do.” She only barely managed to keep her voice even.
“Very good.” He seemed preoccupied and guilt washed away her irritation. Who was the boy to him? “May Tei guide your steps,” Tobar said.
Tei? “What’s his name?” Sara asked.
“Danladi.” Tobar touched his forehead and with a nod to his men, thundered off into the distance.
“Well, that was interesting,” Sara muttered.
“So now we’re finding a small boy?” Zeynel asked.
Sara gazed across the empty wastes of the Faisach. Golden sand ebbed and flowed like waves, punctuated by jagged rocks until it met the sky on the horizon in a smudge of gray. “First things first. One small boy in all of this, like finding a coin on the beach.” She placed a hand over Ilydearta and glanced at Zeynel. “A way where there is no way. Isn’t that want you said?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“My wall is strong.”
Zeynel regarded Sara steadily. “The wall will not be enough if the stones are close to one another.”
“Are they?”
Zeynel shrugged.
“I can’t let a little boy die because I’m afraid of being found.” Sara settled on the coarse sand and dirt. “I have to at least try. Can you tell me what to do?”
“I do not need to.” Zeynel settled next to her and took her hand. The cool touch quieted her thoughts.
Here goes nothing. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes.
The darkness behind her eyes glowed red for a moment. Her heart sped until the color faded to black. She breathed deeply then let herself go. Each grain of sand beneath her fingers became pronounced and individual. She could trace their history back to a time when they were a coalesced body, a giant sentinel on an ancient plain. Then, the earth had been lush with growing grasses and ribboned with silver waterways. She resisted the urge to linger in that place and turned back to the vast wasteland before her. She’d never searched for anything along the winds of Teann, she’d only ever drifted, letting it take her where it willed. She could almost hear Zeynel’s voice urging her to concentrate.
She pictured the Faisach before her. To her surprise, the green of life littered the landscape. Animals lingered in dark holes waiting for the sun to retire, birds flitted along the ground and among the small shrubs struggling for survival. Water holes, the remnants of the rivers that once watered the land, drew animals both large and small to their muddy banks. Small trees sent roots deep into the ground, greedy for hidden waters. She bypassed the many reptiles and amphibians that made those places their home, searching for something larger.
She started when she sensed a small boy near one such water hole. He didn’t seem hurt or even frightened, but she was sure he had to be the one Tobar wanted to find. How many solitary boys could there be out in the Faisach? She fixed the location in her mind then began to pull back when her breath caught in her throat. “Tobar was right, he is not alone.”
“You found him,” Zeynel said as soon as Sara opened her eyes.
Sara rose to her feet. She steadied herself, suddenly tired. Without waiting for Zeynel, she grabbed her pack and started moving forward as fast as she could, trying to orient herself. “I’m not the only one. He’s at a watering hole. There was a large...I think it was a cat heading in his direction. I don’t know if the animal is dangerous but a small boy might be too tempting a prey to pass up.” Damn it. Things looked so different from high above the land. Where was... She spied a familiar rock formation in the distance. “There it is.”
She took off at a slow jog, Zeynel keeping up beside her. Small puffs of dust rose in their wake. Would she get there only to find a half-eaten carcass? What was a boy doing all by himself out here anyway? She shook her head and increased her pace.
Shouldn’t she be there by now? It hadn’t seemed very far. “What kind of large cat roams these lands?” she asked, more to distract herself than because she wanted an answer.
“Not many and mostly near the mount—”
A sharp hunting cry pierced the air. Sara shrugged off her pack and sprinted toward the sound. The breeze from her race across the sand cooled the sweat on her face and neck. She neared the rock formation and rounded the curve.
A copse of trees surrounded a body of water roughly the length of a full-grown man. A large tawny cat circled one of the trees across the pool. Its throat rumbled a cross between a purr and growl. Where is the boy? A leg briefly appeared near the tree trunk before disappearing into the sparse foliage. He climbed a tree. Smart boy, except I bet that cat climbs better than you do. She’s playing with her supper. Without breaking stride, Sara jumped the narrow pool and drew her sword. The boy whimpered in the tree. Was he hurt?
The cat spun, bringing her paws up and revealing long claws.
“I only have one but it’s mighty sharp,” Sara yelled, hoping to spook the cat away. The animal wasn’t deterred. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zeynel enter the clearing.
The cat cried again, a lonely haunting sound. Sara circled, hoping to get closer to the boy’s tree. The cat must have sensed what she was doing, because she bared her teeth and advanced.
“Won’t share your dinner? A scarcity of little boys on the Faisach. I understand, but I won’t let you have this one.” Sara backed up a step. “Zeynel, if I can lure her away from the tree—”
The cat charged. Sara brought her sword up, spinning to avoid the claws, and sliced the animal across its flank. Red seeped through the golden fur. Without pause the cat spun to attack again. Sara caught the animal midpounce, her sword sliding deep into the cat’s chest. The cat’s weight and force of attack threw her back into the muddy ground. She rose to her knees, sword drawn. The animal was still alive but badly wounded. Without a word, Sara sliced the cat’s throat, giving her a mercifully swift death.
Sara turned. Zeynel coaxed a small boy from the tree. Blood darkened Zeynel’s tunic where he held the boy. “My medicine pouch—”
Zeynel motioned with his head. Sara’s pack lay next to Zeynel’s. Sara nodded and moved closer to where Zeynel had set the boy. “Are you Danladi?”
He nodded, his attention not leaving the large cat.
“She’s dead. She’s not going to hurt you.”
; Danladi turned large brown eyes to her. She immediately saw the resemblance. This was Tobar’s son. Had to be. “Are you wounded?”
Danladi whimpered. Sara gently stretched out the boy’s leg. The cloth covering one of his legs was tattered and bloodstained. “I’m going to look at this now, okay?”
Eyes still wide, the boy nodded again.
Poor thing’s in shock. Sara cut away the ruined cloth. Three deep gouges marred Danladi’s lower leg.
Zeynel handed Sara her medicine pouch. She smiled her thanks. “I think you better get that fire started.”
Sara poured water from their water skin over the wounds. The boy flinched. “Are you a brave boy?” she asked. She hadn’t had much practice treating children, but most appreciated honesty. “This is going to hurt. Okay?”
Dark eyes stared into hers.
Sara poured a powder into a small bowl and mixed it with water until the concoction was a milky color. The acrid smell of wood smoke filled the area. “This will clean the wound so no infection sets in.” She poured the contents of the bowl slowly over the boy’s wounds. He hissed and tears spilled down his cheeks but he made no other sound. “You are brave.” She smeared a paste over his leg then wound a clean cloth around it and covered him with a blanket. “All done. Are you thirsty?”
Again the boy nodded. “I have a water skin.” He motioned toward the tree. Sara rose to retrieve his skin. A large broken stick lay among a flurry of animal tracks and the imprint of small feet. Sara gazed at the small boy. Impressive.
She handed him his skin. “You tried to fight her off?”
He took a deep swallow. “She was too big.”
“You know cats climb trees?” She settled next to him.
“Not those, not so much. The branches won’t hold them.” His voice had grown louder with his confidence.
Journey of Awakening Page 14